An Angel at the Manger
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: Three months after Iola's death, Joe has no interest in the usual Hardy family Christmas preparations
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

 _This story was originally written for a Christmas story contest on the HDA site in 2007. It is set before the story series which begins with September Song, and contains only canon characters. I tend to write a lot of Christmastime stories, so will probably post several over the next few weeks, all of which were written prior to 2011. They are all quite short; this one has three chapters total._

 **An Angel at the Manger**

By EvergreenDreamweaver

Chapter 1

"Joe, could you get the Nativity set out of the storage closet upstairs for me, please?" Laura Hardy's voice was becoming tentative before she reached the end of her request, for Joe's immediate response had been a hard-eyed stare and an almost subvocal growl of distaste. "I mean...if you wouldn't mind – if it wouldn't be too much trouble..."

 _Oh dear...seventeen-year-olds can be so difficult_ , she thought to herself, even while admitting that Joe had good and sufficient reason for the way he was acting, whether he was 7, 17 or 37.

Laura wished Fenton was home, not because she thought he could deal with their younger son any more successfully than she could, but merely for support. Unfortunately he was out of town for a few days, working on a case.

Hesitantly she eyed her younger son, wishing that she'd followed her first impulse and simply retrieved the Christmas crèche set herself, since he obviously didn't wish to be bothered and had no interest whatsoever in Christmas preparations. It had been made very clear to them all that Joe didn't want to participate in Christmas celebrations this year.

But...the Nativity set! Joe had always been the one who fetched it from storage at the beginning of December; he had considered it his own special Christmas task. Laura fully realized that his heart wasn't in it this year, but she'd wanted to include him; wanted to make things like they'd used to be, like they'd always been.

Wanted _Joe_ to be like he had used to be.

#####

The Hardys' Nativity set was one Fenton had bought on a brief trip to Europe and brought home the Christmas before Joe was born. It had been an extravagant purchase for the young police officer, but one he had never regretted making, for it was a very special present for his expectant wife and young son. Laura was nearly overwhelmed by her husband's thoughtfulness and the set had been a cherished part of the Hardy family's Christmas celebrations ever since. It was an extremely large and detailed creation, having in addition to the Holy Family members, numerous angels, shepherds, oxen, sheep, a donkey, a stray dog or two, some Bethlehem villagers, and the visiting Magi with their camels. There was even a stable. And unlike most sets of this type, the Baby could be removed from his manger-bed before Christmas, until the time was appropriate for him to be there.

As soon as the boys were old enough to understand the concepts of 'careful' and 'handle very gently' they were introduced to the beautiful decoration, and were allowed to look and touch – under supervision at first, then later, as they pleased. A young Joe had insisted that each member of the family identify with one of the figurines, and stated firmly that _he_ was the shepherd lad with curly light hair and a baby lamb slung across his shoulders.

Laura, her eyes twinkling with mischief and careful not to say it when Fenton's sister Gertrude was around, conceded that _she_ felt a kinship with the Innkeeper's Wife, what with people dropping in unannounced and staying for long periods of time!

To their amusement, Gertrude also chose the Innkeeper's Wife, stating tartly that she felt like all she did was cook for people who were seldom around when mealtime arrived, and wash their dirty laundry. All were very careful not to mention to Gertrude that she and Laura had chosen the same character, and in later years Laura had decided that a fair-haired angel with hands outstretched in welcome was a good second choice.

Frank considered another of the shepherds 'his,' and the boys insisted that the tallest of the Three Kings was Fenton's alter ego. "After all, Daddy," a five-year-old Frank had argued, "you're a really wise man, aren't you?"

Fenton didn't have the heart to dissuade them of the notion.

#####

Joe gritted his teeth to keep another growl from escaping and heaved himself off the sofa. "Sure, Mom, I'll get it for you," he said, sighing in his most put-upon manner – and then kicking himself for it. He should at least _pretend_ to have some interest in their traditional Christmas preparations, shouldn't he? Even if his heart wasn't in it?

"Thank you, honey," Laura said softly. "Take your time; there's no rush, although I'd like it set up by sometime tonight."

Morosely, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and went to the guest room at the back of the house. A large double closet in this room held most of their Christmas décor for the other eleven months of the year, but emptied out during December. The Nativity set was always one of the first things to be taken out.

He closed the door to the room firmly, not desiring any company. Not Aunt Gertrude, not his mother – not even Frank. Despite his stoic demeanor Joe had a feeling that this small Christmas task might be his undoing – which was the main reason he hadn't wanted to do it.

He'd been trying so hard to keep up the impassive façade – he really had. It had been nearly three months now, three long, agonizing months since Iola Morton had died in an exploded vehicle which had turned into a fireball and incinerated his long-time girlfriend in front of his very eyes.

He'd wanted to die too – and nearly had done so, first in a futile attempt to save Iola from the burning car and then in a hazardous endeavor to find and punish the ones responsible for her death. He'd thought that when he and Frank had been successful it would have salved his wounded psyche, but he was only half right. He had felt a bitter pleasure, all right, and vindication – but the heartache remained, for Iola was irrevocably gone, and all the revenge and justice in the world could not bring her back.

Slowly, he approached the closet and opened the bi-fold doors, scanning the shelves for the big box which held the treasured Nativity scene. Spotting it, he took it out of the closet and set it on the bed, then opened the folded-together flaps which held it closed. Carefully, piece by piece, he began to remove the contents, each figure shrouded in a protective covering of tissue paper or bubble wrap. Despite his depression he couldn't help handling them tenderly and smiling, for sweet memories crowded close, bringing back past, happier Christmases and temporarily banishing his current despondency.

There was Frank's shepherd, leaning on his crook and staring reverently downward. Frank had named him Daniel and invented a whole family and back-story for him. Joe gave Daniel an absentminded pat and re-wrapped him. He'd let Frank get out his own special toy. Here were the camels and the oxen and numerous sheep, bundled together in bubble wrap secured with tape. Joe didn't undo the bundle, merely set it aside on the bedspread and dug further into the box.

 _Where's my shepherd boy...? Where's Benjamin? Ah, there you are!_ Smiling, Joe drew out the figurine and unwrapped it, then held it in the palm of his hand. When they were little, he and Frank had used to argue about whether the lamb Benjamin carried was going to be a present for the baby. Frank was of the opinion that if one was visiting a new baby, one ought to bring a present, and since the lamb was right there handy, it seemed like a good idea for a gift. Joe, however, contended that the shepherd boy was merely bringing his lamb for the baby to _see_ , not to keep. Sheep were valuable, and one didn't just give them away. After all, he reasoned, Mary and Joseph were merely staying in Bethlehem until they'd paid their taxes. They didn't even have any place to live, except this stable, and certainly wouldn't want to be saddled with a lamb to take care of as well as a new baby, if and when they found somewhere else to stay!

As Frank had done, Joe created a background for Benjamin. In his mind, Benjamin was the son of a weaver and the oldest of five children, having two younger sisters and two baby brothers, both of whom cried and fussed a lot. Babies were nothing new to Benjamin, but he'd come along with the other shepherds to see this one because it seemed like an interesting thing to do; more interesting than staying with the flock of sheep!

Setting Benjamin aside, Joe reached into the box again, removing more of the contents. He identified each, unwrapped some, left others alone. He unwrapped the manger, but when he found Baby Jesus nestled in cotton batting _and_ bubble wrap he left the tiny figurine in its protective coverings. There were several weeks yet before He had to make an appearance.

A sudden thought brought stinging tears to Joe's eyes. With a pang of grief he recalled pre-Christmas of a year ago – when he had caught Iola's hand and dragged her up here to share in this little unpacking ritual. She had marveled at the beauty of the figurines, and been amazed at all the different animals and people in the set. She had cooed over the baby, placing him in the manger-bed and then taking him back out. And then she had found the angels.

" _Oh Joe, look, aren't they just beautiful? Their faces are so sweet – and so serene! Oh, I like this one with the lute best...or no, this one, with the harp! Oh, look at the one with the lamb!"_

" _This one's Mom's," he had said, pointing out the welcoming angel with outstretched hands._

" _It's beautiful. It looks like her." She had unwrapped another, and yet another angel, exclaiming over each in turn. "But why are they all blondes or redheads? Aren't there any brunette angels?"_

 _He frowned, perplexed. "I don't know. I never thought about it. There must be angels with dark hair!"_

 _But although they had looked carefully, not a true brunette-haired angel was to be found in the set. Golden-brown, red-brown, yes – but no black-haired angels with big brown eyes._

" _Well, we know that some angels have dark hair, because you do," Joe had declared at last. "And you're my real, live angel!"_

 _Oh God_...he'd forgotten that. He'd called her his real, live angel. And now...and now...

With a choked-off wail of grief, Joe snatched up the cocooned Baby Jesus and shook the little figure hard. "Why didn't you save her?" he shouted in fury. "Why did you take her away?" Flinging it down, he picked up the little angel holding the lamb and cradled it close against himself, then buried his face in the pillow of the guest-room bed and began to sob; great wrenching sobs that made him feel as if he was being turned inside out, barely able to breathe through the suffocating pain in his heart. He cried all the tears he had been bottling up for the past three months – and then some.

At long last, exhausted by the paroxysm of anguish, Joe fell asleep, still clutching the figurine of the angel with the little lamb.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written for a Christmas story contest on the HDA site in 2007. It is set before the story series which begins with _September Song_ , and contains only canon characters.

Thank you, Cherylann, Max2013, BMSH, ErinJordan, Wendylouwho10, and bgeesfan for your feedback on Chapter 1, Follows and Favorites!

 **An Angel at the Manger**

By EvergreenDreamweaver

Chapter 2

 _All right, I_ _know_ _this is a dream...Hey, you, stop that!_

Joe gripped the squirmy, odoriferous, baa-ing bundle he held in his arms a bit tighter to prevent it slithering down his body and escaping. He knew he was dreaming, but it felt incredibly real. Here he, Joe Hardy was, standing on a wind-swept hillside in the dark, with a warm, woolly lamb clasped against himself. More sheep were scattered along the slope, grazing and bleating. To his surprise he seemed to be dressed in some sort of tunic and leggings, with sandals on his feet, and what felt like a dishcloth on his head. _Weird_!

The lamb squirmed again and nearly got away. "Stop it, Stinkpot," Joe told it once more and took a firmer grip on the protesting creature. This might be a dream, but it was a very realistic one. The lamb _smelled_ very...sheep-y.

"Benjamin! Are you coming or not?" An impatient voice broke into his one-sided conversation with the lamb. "We're leaving right now, to go into town and find the babe."

Joe tensed. That was a _well-known_ impatient voice. _Frank_? He turned towards the figure approaching him and blinked. Frank's familiar features looked out at him from the shelter of a cloth headdress – it was called a _keffiyeh_ , Joe recalled from some class or documentary or other, and he supposed that was what was on his own head as well – and Frank was dressed in a long robe and carried a staff with a curved end. "Uh...Fra— uh, D-Daniel?" he quavered.

"Are you coming?" Frank/Daniel demanded again. "Or are you staying with the flock?"

Joe blinked again and glanced around. He had a suspicion he'd just missed something pretty spectacular: a visitation by a choir of angels, maybe? Well, he wasn't going to miss anything _else_! Somewhere inside he was impressed with himself for coming up with this remarkably vivid dream, and was determined to enjoy it. "I'm coming," he replied and hefted the lamb to his shoulder with a practiced ease he should not have possessed. "I'm going to bring this little critter along."

'Daniel' shrugged dismissively and turned away. "Whatever pleases you. But if it slows you down we're not waiting for you."

###

Burdened by his lamb, Joe found himself falling behind the others. He wasn't afraid of getting lost, exactly – small Bethlehem town lay directly ahead, and he wasn't far enough behind to lose sight of the other shepherds. But it was slow going; evidently Lamb Chop, as Joe mentally dubbed his new friend, wasn't enthusiastic about being lugged along to visit a baby. It squirmed and wriggled and bleated plaintively and then made another desperate bid for escape. Joe found himself thrown off-balance and the next thing he knew the lamb had catapulted itself from his shoulder and was frisking away back towards the flock they'd left behind.

"Lamb Chop! Hey, come back here, you stupid sheep!" Joe gave one glance over his shoulder at the other shepherds, who were steadily getting farther and farther ahead, and then sighed and set out in pursuit of Lamb Chop. Concentrating on keeping the escaping animal in view, he neglected to watch his footing, and the next thing he knew he'd tripped over a stone and tumbled head-over-heels down a grassy slope.

When he reached the bottom he sat up, unhurt but slightly dizzy and realized that not only was he probably going to miss seeing the Baby Jesus, he'd lost Lamb Chop as well. Muttering under his breath he got to his feet, and deciding to go on to Bethlehem without the lamb, began to trudge up the hill again. He hoped Lamb Chop would return to the flock on his own. _It'll be just my luck to meet Frank – Daniel, that is – and the others coming back because I'm running so late._

He reached the top of the incline and stared around, hoping to spot the elusive Lamb Chop, but there was no wayward lamb in sight, no matter which direction he looked. "Lamb Chop!" he yelled once more, and sighed disconsolately – and then jumped back, startled by a fluttering sound coming from above him. He dodged instinctively, fearful of an attack by a nighthawk, an owl, a vulture – although he knew perfectly well that _they_ didn't fly at night – or some other airborne creature, and his jaw nearly hit the ground when he beheld a figure hovering in the air a few feet in front of him. He automatically took a few more steps back.

"Is this what you were looking for?" a dulcet voice inquired. A sweet, feminine voice that somehow sounded familiar.

"Wha—? Uh...um, yeah, I guess..." Joe gulped. The hovering personage was, to his utter amazement, holding Lamb Chop, who seemed quite content to be cuddled now. "Who...are you?" _This is one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had!_

He stared, bemused, at the amazing sight, wondering if the starlight-and moonlight-shot darkness was playing tricks on his eyes. Yes, there really _was_ a lovely young woman there, clad in a flowing, floating, long-sleeved, ivory-colored gown, a golden band encircling her dark hair, and she was seemingly suspended in midair with no visible means of support to keep her aloft. And then he saw them: wings. Large plumy white wings, layers of downy feathers which wafted gently to and fro, keeping her airborne. "You – you're – are you an angel?!" he blurted.

"Yes," the apparition admitted. "But I haven't been one very long." A soft laugh chimed out. "I'm still learning." She fluttered her wings and then folded them slightly, allowing herself to drift down until her bare feet touched the stone-riddled earth. "I still get distracted from my tasks."

Joe stared harder, feeling a chill wash over him as he made out her features. He _knew_ that chiming laugh. He _knew_ those sparkling brown eyes, and the way the dark hair cascaded down over her shoulders. "Iola," he breathed. _Wow, this is SOME dream!_ He'd dreamed of her before, but those dreams had usually been nightmares that relived the firebombed car. He liked this one much, much better. "You're Iola!" he whispered.

She didn't respond to the name, if indeed she heard him. "Don't you want your lamb?" she inquired, holding the little animal out to him. "I am supposed to join the others. I'm already late."

He took the lamb from her, half-expecting her to be ethereal to the touch; perhaps his hands would pass through hers, or something. But as they touched, she felt as warm and solid and real as anyone. As real as when she had been alive. "Late for what?" He didn't want her to go anywhere. He wanted her to stay here – with him.

The chiming laugh rang out again. "To watch over the Baby, of course! The one we told you about. It is a great honor for me to be assigned to this, newcomer that I am."

"Oh – right, right." He hitched the lamb up on his shoulders again. "I was going there too. But my friends...I mean, the other shepherds – are way ahead of me now. Could we go together?"

Her wings fluttered, and her feet left the earth. She rose into the air and hovered over him. "In a manner of speaking," she conceded, and flew ahead, her robe billowing gracefully around her. "Follow me!" she called back, and Joe followed eagerly, his eyes fastened on the amazing sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written for a Christmas story contest on the HDA site in 2007. It is set before the story series which begins with _September Song_ , and contains only canon characters.

Many thanks to Cherylann, Max2013, ErinJordan and BMSH for your kind reviews! I am very glad you enjoy this little story.

 **An Angel at the Manger**

By EvergreenDreamweaver

Chapter 3

It was a longer walk than Joe had thought it would be, and the lamb was a warm, heavy weight across his shoulders. His steps slowed and 'Iola' flew on ahead. She looked back at him a time or two, and made 'hurry up' motions, but did not wait for him to catch up. It was clear she had someplace to be very soon.

Joe trudged after her, watching the receding figure avidly. He knew this was merely a very vivid dream, triggered by his playing with the Nativity set, but it was such a _happy_ dream, compared to the others. He didn't want it to end. He didn't want to wake up and be alone again, without Iola. He wanted to stay...

That thought made him stop in his tracks. _STAY_? Stay here in Biblical Judea? No, not a good idea and not an option anyway. _Joe, don't be such an idiot. This is a_ _dream_ _, not time-travel._ He couldn't just stay...unless he never woke up – and although he admittedly had considered exactly that, during the last three months, something inside rebelled at the thought. Iola made a beautiful angel, but he doubted that _he'd_ look nearly so nice as one! Joe sighed and resumed his trek toward the village.

###

When he finally reached the little town he spotted the inn almost right away, as it was by far the largest building in view – and the sight of a huge, brilliant star pulsing overhead plus several winged forms hovering above the attached stable pretty much gave it away. Hitching Lamb Chop up once again Joe hastened his steps.

He hadn't considered the fact that several of his companions, accompanied by one or two of the herd dogs, a sheep or two, numerous people from the village as well as the innkeeper and his wife, and several other _large_ animals including a donkey and three oxen, might block him from entering the stable. He spotted a distant Frank – no, _Daniel_ – in the soft lantern light, an unusually tender look on his lean face; otherwise Joe's view was almost completely blocked. He bounced up on his tiptoes, impatient to catch a glimpse of the very special baby – to no avail.

And then, before he could shove his way to the forefront of the crowd, suddenly all the shepherds were moving back, stepping out and away from the stable and pushing Joe along with them.

"Wait – wait, I didn't get—"

"Too bad; you were too late. We have to go back," someone said gruffly, propelling him along. "Hurry up, Benjamin; we can't leave the flocks alone any longer."

"B-but – but I—" Frantically, Joe tried to extricate himself from the crowd. He looked back at the stable as he was being hustled away and saw Iola's angelic form still hovering above the stable roof, her eyes cast downward towards the new baby and His parents – on watch, on guard, doing her important assigned task. _That's why she had to go_ , the thought swirled through his mind. _She was needed – here. More than I needed her...there._

"Benjamin!"

He couldn't stay, but there was one thing he could do. "Just a minute," he said, freeing himself from the other shepherd's grasp. "Iola!" he called out. "Iola!"

She looked at him and smiled, whether responding to her name, or just the sound of his voice – and then with a flutter of feathery plumed wings she was hovering in front of him. "Yes?"

Gulping, Joe pulled Lamb Chop from his shoulder and held the little lamb out to her. "Could you – would you take – for the Baby?" he whispered.

She smiled and extended her arms to take it, just as Joe's arm was seized once again by the other shepherd. "Goodbye!" he gasped, and felt a soft brush of one wing-tip against his face. "Goodbye, Iola!"

#####

" _Goodbye, Iola..."_ With a start, Joe jerked awake. He lifted his head from the pillow and stared in bewilderment at the familiar walls of the guest bedroom. He had half-expected to see dark skies and olive trees on a stony hillside.

 _Wow...I mean, just...wow._

He drew in a shuddering breath and sat up, surprised to see that the windows of the room showed darkness gathering outside. It had been early afternoon when he'd come to fetch the Nativity set. He had slept a long time – and what an _amazing_ dream! Certainly the most vivid he could ever remember experiencing, and he could still recall all the details – the little lamb, Frank's surprising appearance as 'Daniel,' the rugged terrain outside Bethlehem...and the beautiful angel with Iola's face and voice.

He could feel the stickiness of dried tears on his cheeks and his nose was stuffy – but inside, the familiar leaden heaviness of his heart seemed lightened just the least bit.

He felt...comforted.

Slowly, he got off the bed, switching on the bedside lamp, and carefully replaced the various figurines in the box. He didn't bother to re-wrap them, knowing they were just going to be carted downstairs and unpacked anyway. He hefted the box and went to the door.

When Joe emerged into the upstairs hallway he nearly ran into Frank, who for some inexplicable reason seemed to be lurking there. "Whoa! Watch it, bro! What are you doing?"

Frank stared at him, his dark eyes searching Joe's face. Joe knew Frank must have noticed the tear-tracks and the swollen, reddened eyes, but the older boy merely smiled a little and said "Have a good nap?"

"Yeah, I did." Joe headed for the stairs. "Let's get this downstairs, huh? Is it almost dinner time? I'm hungry."

Frank followed after, a thoughtful expression on his face. Joe seemed...different, somehow, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was altered.

Dinner was indeed almost ready, so unpacking the crèche set and arranging it was postponed until after the meal, but at last Frank and Joe settled down on the family room floor to unwrap the figurines, set up the folding stable on a side table, and put everything in place.

Laura came in briefly to find 'her' angel and Fenton's Wise Man, and smiled impishly as Gertrude's Innkeeper's Wife came to light, but for the most part she let Frank and Joe do their customary task. She too had noticed the subtle shift in Joe's demeanor and inwardly rejoiced.

"Have we got everything? All the animals?" Frank looked at the little scene critically, then began patting the scattered wrappings, searching for any missed figurines. "What about the angels?"

Joe counted them and frowned, then began digging through the bubble wrap and tissue just as Frank was doing. "Where's the one with..." he started, when his hand encountered it. "Oh, here she is..." He stopped speaking, staring in awe at the figurine in his hand.

There she was, the beautiful angel in the ivory-colored robe with the gold band around her hair – her _dark_ hair? _Dark_? White-feathered wings drooped forward, enfolding her in their downy plumage. Sparkling brown eyes gazed tenderly down at the little woolly lamb cradled in her arms. He'd seen Iola with that identical expression once, when a new baby lamb had been born on the Mortons' farm.

"Wait a minute, she looks different!" Frank leaned over to examine the angel. "I didn't think she was looking at the lamb. And didn't she used to have blonde hair? When did we get a brunette angel?"

Joe felt his throat tighten and blinked rapidly to forestall any more tears falling tonight. "We got her...when we needed her," he said softly, and cupped the figurine with its familiar piquant features gently in his hands.

"But where did she come from?" Frank demanded, his curiosity unsatisfied by Joe's cryptic answer.

Joe smiled as he placed his cherished angel on the table near the stable. There was finally a measure of acceptance in his heart. _Goodbye, Iola..._

"From Heaven, of course. Where she belongs."

The End


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